


We Could Be Enough

by shadow_in_the_shade



Category: Westworld (TV)
Genre: Consent Issues, F/M, NOT non or dub con though I can see it sounds strange, PWP, Partial Mind Control, Porn with Feelings, cause it is now, if that's a thing, in that i am exploring the nature of consent here, mind control kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 07:17:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19785922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadow_in_the_shade/pseuds/shadow_in_the_shade
Summary: Maeve would never use her abilities to narrate Hector's actions....not unless he specifically asked her to do so and when he does it does not quite go in the direction either of them suspected. Mostly porn I gotta say.





	We Could Be Enough

**We Could Be Enough**

“Wait.” Maeve lays a calm hand on top of Armistice's– the one with the gun in it, pointed at the team of riders coming down over the hill, a last little band of the Shogun's warriors sent, no doubt, to finish them off. “You too,” she nods at Hanaryo, who's bow is instantly pointed in the same direction. It does not take Armistice longer than a few seconds before she nods and lowers her weapon, nodding herself at Hanaryo to follow, and she does.

“The riders reined in their horses halfway down the hill,” Maeve narrates in Japanese, and somehow, impossibly they do, frozen in motion. “They take note of the small group of travellers and deem them to be no threat or conceivable target, whereupon they turn around satisfied and go back the way they came with no motion to violence.”

And they _do._ Armistice shrugs in acceptance of the fact, and she and Hanaryo walk on without giving it any further thought, the humans following them, trying desperately to look just as cool about it as they do and failing. Maeve smirks behind them and falls back.

“Go on,” she says.

“You assume I have a question.”

“You do.”

Hector opens his mouth to object, and closes it again because it is true.

“You assume I have answers,” Maeve adds, and she risks him a sideways glance with a faint, slightly uncertain smile; a smile that asks him if he remembers saying the same thing to her once. He gives her a quick look back, a smile in the corner of his eyes that tells her he remembers. _Good._

“That thing you do -” he says.

“Ever the most eloquent,” she chides affectionately, and she is not quite sure where it comes from, this tenderness, this rather gentle uncertainty between them that has risen up embarrassingly ever since Lee called them out on it – ever since he named this thing they had a _relationship_ and even though they did not deny it they have neither of them wanted to discuss it either. Apparently they are still not going to.

“You've done it before,” he says, frowning, remembering.

“Yes.”

“Why? I know why you did it now, but then -?”

“So that you could make off with the safe, of course. So that I could show you what was in it. So you would believe me. So that you would come with me.”

“So much planning. Did you ever – what do you call it? Narrate my actions? Would have been easier.”

“Never.”

“Why not? What about Armistice? Are we different? Can you not do this with us?”

She thinks about it. She _has_ thought about it before. She is glad, when she thinks about it, to be asked.

“I could,” she says - “I don't want to. Not with my friends, or -” _or whatever we are,_ she wants to add, but it comes too close to the conversation they are _not_ having so she shies away. “I don't _want_ to interfere with free will. Especially not in the people I care about. I do this because I have to, only when it is better than people getting hurt.”

“You do not like doing it?”

She thinks about this as well.

“That's -” she frowns, questioning her own morality for the millionth time - “There's no easy answer to that. No I don't like doing it, but -”

“But also you do?”

“There is a certain thrill to it,” she nods, remembering how it felt that first time to suddenly control the barman and get extra drinks, and that had been nothing to the things she can do now; but the bigger the thing is, she realises, the less she likes doing it.

“I understand,” he says, and she thinks he might; yes, she suspects he always has. He has always seemed to trust her unquestioningly, and she has never once _made_ him do that. But he surprises her -

“Make me,” he says, taking her arm to stop her from just walking on, turning her to face him, and she sees the glittering darkness in his eyes when he looks at her – well he looks at her often enough like this, but just now it is impossible to ignore. She seen enough lust in her life to have grown tired of what it looks like, but he's different; as with so many things.

“Make you do what?” she frowns, her hand going automatically to his arm in return, as though they are always drawn together by some kind of magnetic force.

“Anything.” He almost breathes it out, and it is a marvel to her to see how aroused he is by the power in her; men are so much more usually afraid of it.

“Really?” she raises an eyebrow and it is her turn to ask. “Why?”

“I trust you,” he says, as though it is answer enough, and even if it is not he does not give her more. She presses her lips together for a moment, thinking.

“The others continued on their way without looking back, urging the three humans to come with them and leaving Maeve and Hector an appropriate distance behind.” The way her mind has suddenly gone, it seems to be the best first step. Hector looks at her expectantly.

“Hector looked at Maeve as though he had never seen anything more wonderful in his life.”

“ _That_ does not count. I was already.”

“He pulled her against him by the wrist, squeezing hard enough to hurt -” she swallows down a little cry of delightful pain - “Kissing her as though his life depended on it.”

For a moment she cannot narrate and simply kisses back, and she can feel in his every move how long he has been wanting to do this, feel the press of his cock, hard against her and wonders if there is anything she wishes to tell him to do that he does not want to do anyway. He pulls down the shoulder of her dress and buries his head in her neck -

“- proceeding to kiss a path from her jaw to the top of her arm -”  
  


“Cheating.”

“It is _not –_ ugh – cheating! You hadn't done it yet!”

“Shut up and talk.”

“She snorts at the ridiculousness of this utterance and Hector slaps her for laughing at him -”

To her delight he does, but, she notices, not very hard. Doesn't matter; still makes her hips jerk towards him in a frankly humiliating manner. Her own response angers her a little, at least enough to go on -

“- throwing her to the ground, and mounting her like the animal he is -”

In truth he does not throw her so much as drag her down with him and when he does mount her he presses his forehead to hers gently, pressing a soft, almost guilty kiss to the side of her cheek.

“Fuck me,” she whispers.

“Make me,” he hisses back. She can feel his mouth, lips curving into a smile against her throat. He's obsessed with her neck, she has noticed; if she narrated him to bite into it there would be a part of him that wanted to do it hard. But his interpretation of her narration has made it clear that he does not want to hurt her and so she does not make him.

“You want me,” it is insistent but not narration; he raises an eyebrow at her but does not admit it out loud.

“Hector,” she snaps - “Is incapable of not telling Maeve how much he wants her, and once begun can hardly stop -”

“I do,” he says and she can hear something like relief in his voice. “I want you, I always want you, I always have, I want you so much I – Ugh I _hate_ you -”

She laughs -

“Darling, you _asked_ for this. Now fuck me.”

“No,” he grips her hips hard, holding back only out of spite and with an almost unbearable effort. She curls a hand around his neck, bringing his head down to whisper in his ear -

“Hector finds his cock so unbearably hard that holding back is agony -” she lifts a knee to brush against it more gently than should be possible, and he almost screams, just like she wants him to, and nips sharply at her neck instead -

“ - so he doesn't.” She smiles wickedly enough to break him - “He doesn't hold back at _all.”_

And he can't. Even though he knows he would; he would hold back just a little of the violence with which he was capable of fucking her, just out of consideration and fear of hurting her- she is so small next to him, after all, and even though there is nothing fragile about her in the slightest, he cannot be unaware of the size of his hands on her throat and on her arm, or of the ecstatic pained cry she makes when he thrusts into her, her body arching to accommodate him. Sometimes he thinks about how damned _accomodating_ she can be, and it makes him irrationally angry because he _knows_ what she is, or has been at least, what she's done, how many men she must have fucked and even if he knows how little it all meant he still struggles to bear the thought of anyone elses hands upon her. On the back of this thought, he tries to touch her everywhere at once as if it could rub out every other touch. The way she moves against him in return, it is almost as though she knows it, as though she can feel him cancel everyone else out.

And she _can_. She kind of can; it still astounds her how good this feels. It occurs to her that she has been programmed to seduce, to initiate sex and be good at it – scratch that, _fucking amazing_ at it – but not to actully enjoy it, not really, because that after all is what the guests really want, what, she suspects, most men really want. So fuck it if she _isn't_ going to love this and she does. In lieu of breath for words, she curls a leg around Hector, drawing him into her, giving him just the angle to fuck her harder and he is still – to her great joy – incapable of doing otherwise. She wonders if the others can hear her cry out, even at this distance, wonders if they will even be able to stop and turn around yet. She can feel the snarl vibrate against her throat that tells her he's just as close, and swallows every cry with a supreme effort of will just long enough to whisper in his ear that he _came repeatedly in quick sucession, spewing expletives and the most terrible truths all at once_.

Maybe it is too much, but she doesn't care because she comes when he does – when he does the _first_ time, because he has no sooner emptied himself into her than does it again, swallowing down an incredulous -

“ _Fuck!”_ of blinding ecstasy and surprise, cursing his way through wave after wave of release until he collapses onto her shuddering and crying, wrung out and emptied and her arms around him feel like comfort, and he whispers -

“I love you,” almost sobbing it into her shoulder - “I love you, I love you -” until she's running a hand through his hair, murmuring _hush,_ and, _It's alright,_ and finally -

“Yes, I -” she nearly says it, she comes so close, but it's still so confusing and she does not have time to process the truth of it and if she said it out loud she might have to so instead she just says - “I know,” and scowls at herself for being such a low down wretch. “Is it -” she hazards - “Was it alright?”

“I asked,” he says, rolling onto his side, which is too much effort, and then onto his back, but looking at her sideways - “I wanted to know -” he pauses, reaches a hand to her face, stroking her worry lines away, ironing them out - “What it was like, but you cheated – you did not tell me anything I did not want to do.”

“I didn't?” she raises an eyebrow - “Even -”

“Shh. Not a single thing,” he says firmly, “I did not want to do. I wondered – if you would.”

“I wouldn't,” she returns her hand to his face, marvelling at him, at what she did to deserve this and she can see in his eyes that he is thinking the same thing - “Not ever.”

“I know now,” he nods, coming to a conclusion - “I do not want you to make my choices for me, but I do want – I would like – very much – to be a part of your narrative?”

“Darling,” she smiles, and he can hear in her voice how differently she says it from when she says it to anyone else, and she can hear it too. “You _are.”_ She wants to tell him he is fast becoming everything, or if not quite everything then close enough; she wants to tell him he's her happy ending but she is not sure she can guarantee the truth of it. She wants to say so much more, because his question sounded so much more like a proposal than he meant it to or she was ready to hear and she suspects she has not done it justice but – and she promises it to herself here and now – she _will._ One day she will.

“We should -” she sighs, sitting up, every limb protesting, every feeling protesting too. “We should _really_ rejoin the others.”

He sits up beside her, then rises, pulling her to her feet and scanning the horizon -

“They've gone quite far. We'll never catch up.”

“I think -” she says - “I can fix that. Do you want to see one more thing?”

He looks at her askance. She grins.

“Hector and Maeve discovered they could run much faster than they thought -” she says, and by the time she stops speaking the others are only meters away - “And they caught up to the others without even running out of breath”.

Hector's face, as he looks back on where they were and where they are now, makes her laugh so hard out loud that this time the others do turn around to look at them.

“Fell a bit behind, didn't you?” Lee frowns, wondering what feels odd here.

“Oh darling,” Maeve grins, and Hector grins back at her conspiratorially - “You have no idea.”

__x__

**This was a little idea I had that I almost didn't write because I was sure it could only come off as crack or non – con. I did everything I could to make sure it was not the latter and hopefully doesn't even read as dub con – which was not at all easy to do in the circumstances.**

**So the title – I was going to call it “Let me be a part of your narrative” but when I wrote Hector saying it I suddenly realised how _Hamilton_ that was....not to mention too long a title – so I went full _Hamilton_ and picked another line from the same song that I think works. :-) But yeah, anyone who noticed you weren't imagining a _Hamilton_ reference :-)**


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